


The Station

by Rovelae



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Afterlife, Comfort, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 00:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17518535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rovelae/pseuds/Rovelae
Summary: Kokichi waits for Kaito in the limbo between death and whatever comes next. Not because he's scared or anything, of course.Inspired by SandyKaoru-Arts’ fanart here: https://sandykaoru-arts.tumblr.com/post/168567020755Mandatory Background Music: ‘Spinning Song’: https://youtu.be/zxx4z64GH38





	The Station

My breath sends small clouds of white swirling away through the falling snow. That’s the first thing I notice—how it feels to breathe again, the chill air washing through my lungs. The ground before me gleams a pristine white, the only sound the far-off wind calling from the mountaintop. It’s so much quieter than it was just moments ago—moments, minutes, hours?—that for a while, all I want to do is stand here, feeling the cold kiss of snow against my skin, taking it all in.

Some part of me finds that strange. Before, I’d have wanted to sprint through the whiteness, laughing and tireless and free, shouting just to hear my voice echo off the graphite-grey cliffs. But I’m just standing here, swallowed in the stillness.

It’s different here. Serene.

And more than anything … achingly familiar.

Yeah, I guess I do recognize this place. I’ve never been here before—never even thought of what it might be like, really—but now that I’ve arrived, I know it instantly.

A train station sits some distance ahead of me. Nothing special, just a few benches under a pavilion. I’m almost reluctant to make my way toward it, but the longer I stay here, the harder it’s getting not to look back, so I start walking.

 

The station isn’t as empty as I’d thought. A boy about my age stands on the platform near the tracks, hugging his arms to himself, snowflakes gathering in a thin layer on top of his head. He looks up when I approach, his violet eyes wide and his expression carefully blank.

We exchange nods, the only greeting either of us seem to find necessary. I stop at his side and we don’t speak for a long time.

He’s the first to break the silence. “How was it?”

There’s no lying to him; I’ve tried before. But then, there’s nothing to hide anymore.

“It’s up to them now,” I say.

He nods, slowly, like he’d expected that. A short shiver passes through him, and he reaches up to brush the snow out of his hair.

I shift my weight, following the train tracks with my eyes until they fade away in the snowfall. “So, what happens now?”

“Who knows?” Another shiver. “Never really thought about it.”

“Me neither.”

He opens his mouth to respond, but sighs instead.

And that’s when it hits me. The slight shaking of his hands, the tightness around his eyes.

“Are you … scared?”

The other shoots me a look. “Seriously? Me? Nothing for me to be scared of.”

“You waited here for me,” I point out.

“Only ‘cause you’re too dumb to find your way without me.”

I opt to let that one slide. The boy stares intently ahead, but his hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides. I’ve never been able to figure out what goes on in his head, but at least I can tell it’s not the cold that’s making him tremble.

Somewhat hesitantly, I reach out my hand, and I’m surprised when he takes it and grips as tightly as he can.

“Any idea where we’re going?” he asks softly.

“Not a clue. No one’s ever been back to let us know, have they.”

“Hm.”

A train whistle sounds out in the distance.

 

I’m on the second step into the passenger car when I hear him call my name. He’s still standing on the platform, head bowed, tugging at the small scarf around his neck.

“I’m sorry for everything that’s happened,” he mumbles. It’s uncharacteristically sincere.

I can’t quite stop myself from looking back, past the station and into the swirling white obscurity, despite knowing there’s nothing left to see. “I’m sorry, too,” I say at last.

He reaches up to brush a lock of hair away from his eyes—or maybe that was a tear—and nods once.

“Are you ready?”

“No, but neither were any of the others.”

“Yeah. Let’s go.”

His thin, pale fingers brush against the train door as he follows me inside.

We travel somewhere far, far away. Somewhere endless, infinite, impossible. Together.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written to be platonic, but it can be taken to be Oumota if that’s your cup of tea, which is why I tagged it how I did. I tend to prefer their friendship dynamic, because I was really put off that we never really got to see them learn to understand and respect each other during V3....  
> Comments and critiques are welcome and appreciated!


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